


Screaming

by erikaehm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikaehm/pseuds/erikaehm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone asked for Lydia and Stiles being twins. My mind spewed out a drabble of randomness. Spoilers for S3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screaming

She’s the sort of person that people look twice at. She’s got that thick red hair, the sexy dark eyes that watch others with single minded focus. Her skin is pale (like his, but it’s more attractive in a woman he knows) and dusted lightly with soft freckles. In a word, she is perfect. 

And they talk to her like she’s stupid. Gentle, easy words and small sentences because yes she’s the sort to sit on the bleachers and hold a sign with her boyfriends name. And he might not be able to take advanced chem like her (he can’t focus long enough) but he’s the only Goddamn person in Beacon Hills who can understand her formula to self igniting molotov cocktails.

She is Lydia, and to him she is perfect despite all the flaws.

Their mother has been gone for a while now – a long while – and he’d never think of Lyds as a replacement. She doesn’t cook and hardly cleans (those are his jobs) but he see’s their mother in the curve of her mouth when she smiles, the sparkle in her eye when she teases their father in a low voice above the TV.

In the end though, Lydia is his. His sister, younger by just over half hour, and in being the older sibling (brother) he takes his job seriously. He doesn’t approve of Jackson the instant that she brings it up.

“He’s an asshole.”

“He’s...acceptable.” She’s sprawling across his bed, bored.

“He’s an idiot.”

“No one’s ever going to be smart enough for us.” She adds his real name to the end in a playfully lilting tone while he cringes.

He doesn’t like it but he accepts it, and in the end she’s the one who helps him track down Matt. He stands to the side and watches her tell Jackson I do and knows he’ll spend the night whispering into her hair and rocking her to and fro. She meets his eyes for a second. No words pass between them but he knows.

Thank you, her eyes say. Thank you for bringing me here.

He knows he will never forgive Derek, or Isaac or Erica for trying to poison his sister just as he knows he’ll never forgive Jackson for being the Kanima, for breaking her heart. He thinks Allison is a bad influence but he can’t say much seeing as she’s dating Scott. 

He watches the passion for life drain from her eyes and he when he stares at Peter Hale, listens to the story, he wonders how two people born from the same people can be so different.

Because while their intelligence is matched, it’s hard to believe that Lydia could ever be so corrupt.

So he sits and he waits with the woman who is immune – he wonders then. If he had have said yes to Peter’s bite, would it have worked? Moot point. What’s done is done – but then the Alpha’s are there. She’s known all along (how could she not?) yet he noses into her room in the morning, smelling worn leather and too strong body spray, remembering it from the locker room and knowing who it is.

He warns her. Aiden is (of course) using her but Lydia won’t listen. She is, if anything, wild at heart. For all her intelligence it seems she has a death wish and he wakes to the door clicking shut as an Alpha he hates sneaks from their home.

He wants to confont her but instead he finds his hand around the shaft of a flare, shoes soaked through with gasoline and suddenly that is more important. Their eyes had met in the moment before he stepped into the fire and he had seen it.

He had seen the 

Please Stiles

Don’t do this

I need you

Stiles

Please

Yet she hadn’t moved forwards and he hadn’t been able to resist. His body – over energetic, unable to focus – finally, finally, after so many years, so many exhausting years, settles. He stares at Scott. Scott stares back at him. His heart beats even as he exhales and he knows; this is the deciding factor. He hopes that Lydia has gotten his message.

He curls another fist over the flare, not breaking eye contact.

It all boils down to this.

OoOoO

He’s so smart but it’s hard for him to focus. She can remeber holding his head firmly between her hands and murmuring soft words, trying to get him to calm. It had worked when they were children but, as so many children were prone to do, they had grown up early.

She didn’t like to think it but she knew her father was an alcoholic. When their mother died, it got worse. Between the two of them they could probably rip through college material, but on their own...well.

It was enough, she thought, to make sure he was at home or with Scott. Stiles was gone often and the loneliness of it left her with a sharp tongue. She wasn’t stupid (far from it) and when Jackson found out about his parent she wedged a little well in his heart during their school councelling.

Stiles never came to their sessions.

He told her that Jackson was bad for her, but she chalked it up (the entire time pulling the wool over her own eyes) to jealousy, He wasn’t front line, he was nobody. Sure he was smart, and she loved him but she could be more.

Even if she did have to dumb herself down, which she often did for dad.

She found herself hunched over a bloody, naked man as he rose from a grave beneath his house and she screamed. 

Stiles was there every night when she awoke from nightmares knowing their fathers guns wouldn’t be able to chase their demons away.

And while he judges her relationship with Aiden, she finds herself spinning the web deeper and deeper, until the liar opens up and whispers to her his secrets. She sits in the dark and researches when he’s gone.

Her body is a body. What happens between them is good but the information he gives (the soft spot of his body) her is priceless. She documents everything and bares the anger Stiles tosses at her with the iron backbone being the woman of the house has granted her.

And then she watches Scott – her second brother, who Allison doesn’t deserve most of the time – standing in a puddle of gasoline. She watches Stiles step forward, nervous and then calm. It’s then that she realises that this? As much as it’s a fantasy, it’s not a game.

Stiles tosses the flare.

It rolls.

Lydia watches her brother – her overactive, beautiful brother – and she screams.


End file.
